


that's just wasteland, baby

by IzzieBee



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Post Canon 2x12, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzzieBee/pseuds/IzzieBee
Summary: Lucy had always loved beautiful things. But now there was a clear before, and a clear after.Everything is different.ORLucy and Tim find each other.
Relationships: Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 44
Kudos: 447





	1. half as beautiful too

**Author's Note:**

> Whose ready for the episode tonight???? 
> 
> I am going to cry my face off (especially if Tim and Lucy don't interact this episode)

Lucy had always loved beautiful things. 

As a kid she always colored inside the line (which would be a surprise to absolutely no one), and hung up her work carefully on her wall, her ceiling covered with meticulously arranged plastic, glow in the dark constellations. She had picked out the colors to paint her bedroom walls, when she was twelve, with the seriousness and intentionality of a surgeon. 

She had always wanted things to look good. When they looked the way she wanted them too, she felt better, even when that seemed impossible. 

As she got older she spent hours curling her hair, carefully brushing out the curls with her fingers to make the ringlets into soft waves. She picked out thin gold jewelry, that she would wear like a security blanket (the gold studs she even wore with her uniform, when she wore her hair in a utilitarian, but still immaculate, bun). Picking out clothes that flowed and cinched in the right way, that fit her aesthetic, her palate, her mood.

She knew she was beautiful, too, but that seemed less important. She likes cultivating beauty, so it felt earned. 

Her apartment, half Jackson’s, half hers, was filled with light and art, and candles. She bought plants, and spent hours researching where to put them, how much water and shade they needed. She moved things back into place when they shifted; she liked things a certain way.  
They were all the things that helped center her when she came home from a particularly hard day of work.

Her mom would have a field day with that. Why would she want to go into such a flawed profession, in a city with more demons than angels (and a lot of those demons wore the same uniform as her), when she loved things that were simply, beautiful. 

Like tattoos. 

She had always loved that her tattoos were beautiful. 

They meant something bigger, sure, but that wasn’t the whole truth of it. 

She got them because she wanted to. Because they were beautiful. Because they looked beautiful on her skin. Looking at herself in the mirror in the tattoo shop, before she could get it done, the ink imprint before the needle, was a thrill. 

She remembered how giddy she had been, at eighteen years old, getting her first. 

It looks beautiful, she had thought, I look beautiful. 

She lifted her shirt, alone in the station locker room, looking at her reflection in the mirror and she felt a strange and awful disconnect. This was not her body, that was not her tattoo, those were not her eyes staring back (her eye’s didn’t look like that, haunted).

It had been a few weeks, since, everything. 

There would always be the before and the after, now. 

Before she went on a date and ended up tattooed, assaulted, buried alive. Before the hospital, where she had been stitched up, and prodded, and where everything ached. Before spending a week in bed, trying to convince herself that nothing would happen to her if she just got out of bed and did something. 

Now she was back at work, and that was good. She was excited for her first shift, for things to be normal, it was a good thing. 

She touched the ugly dark ink, and felt the slightly raised skin, it didn’t sting, but it should. It should hurt. It shouldn’t be like her other tattoos, healed in a couple weeks, just a part of her skin like freckles.

This thing was ugly.

“Lucy.” Tim was standing in the locker room. Her locker room, which was totally unfair, especially when she was in uniform pants, and a tank top (half off), with her short sleeves laying on a bench a foot away. He of course was ready for patrol, looking every bit the poster boy for the LAPD, that he didn’t want to be. 

Her eyes welled up, despite herself.

There are a lot of things that could have broken her heart, at that moment. 

The look on his face. 

The sadness in his voice. 

But, none of that got to her. 

No, what made her have to blink back tears, was the fact he called her Lucy. Not, Boot, not Chen, not Rookie. 

Lucy.

He never called her Lucy. 

Lucy pulled down her shirt quickly.

“You can’t look at me like that.” Her voice sounded harsh to her own ears, and that was good. She needed to be tough, she needed to be strong. She wouldn’t survive coming back if she wasn’t.

“Like what?”

She wanted to say like I’m broken, but she couldn’t bring herself to. How would he react, after all? She wasn’t sure what would hurt the most. Him brushing it off, or making it a joke, or ignoring the comment all together. 

(Him agreeing, that would hurt the most). 

“Nothing,” Lucy muttered, looking at the floor. “What are you doing here anyway.”

“You ready?” He sounded like her TO, and a wave of relief rolled over her. 

“Of course,” Lucy nodded, mechanically, “You don’t have to worry.” 

“I do worry.” It was so Un-Tim that she looked directly into his eyes for the first time, “I mean your my-”

If she was braver, she would have asked, your what. 

But her bravery was all used up.

“I’m your Rookie,” Lucy tried to smile, but she is sure it was more like a grimace.

“Yah.” He said, and she didn’t think she was lying exactly. He was her TO, she was his Rookie, but things were greyer than they had been, at least for her. 

He had taken care of her. The whole squad had taken care of her, but Tim. He was always there. 

When she wouldn’t get out of bed, Jackson called him, and he made her go for a walk with him. Then they started walking every day. They watched old movies together. He brought her groceries, and put them away. He interrogated Jackson, when he thought she was eating enough, getting out enough. Had she been sleeping. 

They went on runs together. She hated going on runs. He pushed and pushed, saying it would keep her in shape, to return to work earlier. He teased her the whole time, and it had been the first time she had laughed since the hospital. 

(Of course he had been the one to make her laugh in the hospital, too, which should have been a clue that she was absolutely screwed). 

He helped fill out paperwork so she could work desk duty for a week, and he helped her fill out even more so she could come back to active duty. He didn’t believe in therapy, but he drove her to her appointments, when Jackson couldn’t. He was the reason she was still a Rookie, still going to be a police officer. 

“I’m ready to go back.” Lucy said, answering the unasked question. 

“I believe you.” He looked like he actually did (she wondered how long it had taken her to get really good at reading Tim, probably as long as it took to call him Tim in her head). 

“Good.” Lucy grabbed her uniform shirt, tugging it on, and doing the buttons up, trying to ignore Tim looking pointedly away. 

“You ready?”

As ready as I'll ever be.

“Yes.” Lucy slammed her locker closed, “I am ready.”

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

It had been such a long shift. Lucy’s first hard shift, really hard shift since being back. 

She got too involved, emotionally involved. But there had been a woman, who had the same look in her eyes that she had in the hospital, and the man who hurt her wasn’t dead. She had one solace, on the ambulance ride back, when Tim told her that Caleb was dead. This woman, she didn’t even have that. 

It took everything not to rip his throat out when they arrested him. 

She wouldn’t look at Tim, but she could feel his eyes on her the rest of shift. 

Tim started to say something as they clocked out, but she had muttered a goodbye, and slipped into the locker room before he could finish. She had changed out of her uniform (this was one of those days she was really happy to leave it behind); she made a beeline towards the parking lot, hoping that Jackson was waiting for her, and they could go home and watch something stupid with a couple of glasses of wine. 

She spotted Jackson, leaning against his car, almost immediately. 

“Hey Jackson,” she said, trying to put a smile in her voice, but his voice fell as soon as he heard it. 

“I’m fine-” Lucy lied, trying to infuse some brightness into her voice.

“I’ll drive you home.” Tim’s voice was firm behind her, and Jackson gave her a questioning look, his eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them. 

“Fine,” Lucy muttered, figuring it was easier. She would tell Tim she was fine, he would walk her in, complain about the lack of groceries in their fridge, and go home (to Rachel, and she tried to ignore the sting that this particular thought delivered). 

She didn’t look at him, as the buckled in, and he didn’t say anything. Maybe, she thought, he won’t say anything. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It was hard to fall asleep, but it was easier when Tim was nearby (she tried not to dwell on that particular fact) and if he wasn’t going to ask, she wasn’t going to answer. Maybe she could even get a nap out of the deal. 

She dozed off, and only woke up when she felt the engine turn off. 

She looked around, and felt panic seep through her system. 

“Where are we?” Lucy spit out. 

“It’s been close to two months.” Tim said calm, “If you want me to take you home I will, but-”

“Good, do what you said you would,” Lucy said, her voice crackling, “Or I will just call a Lyft, I can’t believe-”

“You are close spinning out.” Tim said, his voice quiet, “I saw it today. You can’t change everything but, if you are keeping that on your body, it’s going to be a choice. You will be making a choice. You can make that choice if you want. Keep it like a bullet wound scar, you can do that. But you don’t have to.” 

Lucy looked where they were parked. It was a tattoo removal clinic. He probably, knowing him, got her an appointment and cleared it with their shitty insurance. 

“No,” Lucy shook her head, feeling the panic fade away leaving something close to resolve, behind. 

“Chen-” 

“I want a cover up tattoo.” Lucy looked him dead in the eye, “I know the shop I want to get it done at.”

Tim grabs his phone and opens it to google maps. She types it the name, and they are there a few silent minutes later. 

“Hey Val,” Lucy said, as they walked in, and she looked around. She loved getting tattoos, the pain never bothered her. It always had been worth it. Now, though-

“You can go,” She said walking towards the sample book, flipping through but not really looking. 

“Not a chance.” 

She didn’t have it in her to ask him to leave again. She didn’t know what would happen if he agreed. 

The next few hours were a blur. Like she was outside her body, talking with the artist, picking the design, with Tim next to her, always in her eye line. 

He’s still here. He hasn’t left.

She surprised herself when she reached out and grabbed his hand, as the needle punctured her skin for the first time. 

He surprised her, when he didn’t let go. 

They stayed like that, and time slipped away, until-

“It’s…” Lucy tried to find the words, looking at her ribs that would never have that day carved into her, again, instead it was just roses, “Beautiful.”

Red, and raised, as it was, it was perfect, and tears pricked the sides of her eyes. 

“Yah,” Tim replied, and it must have been the throbbing on her side, or being awake for 24 hours, but she could have sworn he wasn’t looking at her new tattoo. 

He was looking at her. 

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

It had already been hard, to ignore that tug in her chest when she saw Tim, before she was put in a barrel in the ground and her whole world tilted on its axis. 

But now, after weeks of him ‘stopping by’, watching movies together, him sleeping on the couch for three days so she wouldn’t be alone when Jackson was out of town-

(When he had held her hand for six hours while a needle covered up her proposed day of death, and she had cried, and he hadn’t said anything, and just stayed squeezed a little harder. 

When Val had told her she had a great boyfriend and she hadn’t corrected her. 

When he dropped her off, she hugged him, ignoring the burning on her side, and she had slipped inside.

When Tim dropped off Aquaphor, and ibuprofen, the next day, without saying a word.

When Tim was, well, Tim), 

She had thought there would only be one before and after, chopping her life into a binary.

It was fucking impossible, to look at him the same way. To not think about how it would be if she wasn’t just his Rookie, his little-sister-esque responsibility. If she got to be with him, without distance. 

But she couldn’t, so she kept her head down, and she kept working. 

There were moments where she wondered. 

“You spend a lot of time with him,” Jackson said, when they were putting away dishes. Tim had just left, after bringing groceries. 

And cooking them dinner, she amended, and loaded the dishwasher-

“Sure, he’s my TO,” She reasoned, not even pretending she didn’t know who he was talking about. 

“I am not hanging out with Lopez tonight,” Jackson said pointedly, “Didn’t hang out with her last night either. Or the night before.” 

He had been with his boyfriend the night before, Lucy was pretty sure they had plans later tonight. Lucy blushed despite herself. 

“Things have been different,” Lucy tried to explain, what she wasn’t sure, “Since-”

“I know,” Jackson’s voice was softer, “I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” It embarrassed her, how quickly and surely she said that. But she knew, she just knew that he wouldn't hurt her. 

“No,” Jackson said, with a half smile, “Not on purpose.” 

Lucy turned away, under the pretense of looking for space in the cabinet. 

He was right of course. 

After that night she thought about dating (even after her promise that she wouldn’t be doing that again). She downloaded a dating app without telling anyone. Curated what photos she would put on, what quips she would include. 

She couldn’t bring herself to publish. 

She couldn’t picture anyone taking her out, or buying her drinks, except for Tim. 

Well she was well and truly fucked. 

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

Months passed, and Tim was always there: to teach her, to push her, to make sure she was okay. It was better than nothing, of course, but it didn’t stop the wondering, in the hazy time before she fell asleep. 

What if he saw a woman, not just a Rookie, when he looked at me.

But then Jackson’s voice would come back. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose, but that didn’t mean her heart couldn’t get broken. 

She hugged that stupid, sweet bear Nolan got her and she shut out that silly, hopefull voice in her head, and she would try to sleep. 

Lines are healthy, she reminded herself, Boundaries keep us safe. 

She would ignore the moments, where things got even more uncertain. When he caught her looking too long, or she caught him doing the same, (trying to ignore the pure electricity that always shot through her system when it happened). 

They were just close, they were bonded by trauma, and he was important to her. 

She was important to him. She was pretty sure she was important to him. 

But not too important. After all, he had Rachel. 

Rachel, she felt guilt pool uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach, whenever she thought about her. 

She loved Rachel, and these feelings of her’s, were absolutely unfair to her friend of over ten years. 

(She set the two of them up together, for God’s sake.) 

She had been avoiding getting coffee with Rachel for a few weeks, a couple months after the coverup (and the cosmic shift), which just made the guilt deeper and more profound. She didn’t know how she could look in her eye’s and not blurt out the awful, inevitable truth. 

Rachel kept asking, and she knew she couldn’t avoid it any longer (plus, she missed her friend, and she wasn’t in the position of alienating anyone who stood by her after everything, not after everything they had all done for her). 

“Hey, Rachel.” Lucy smiled, and Rachel smiled back, and her heart hurt. 

They talked for a bit, small talk and work talk, and some updates about friends from college and it was almost normal. She had forgotten how good a friend Rachel was, which wasn’t fair. She had been there at the hospital, she made her soup on her first night back in the apartment. She was a good person. 

She is good for him. 

It should have hurt more, but it kind of helped, and Lucy found herself laughing at stupid inside jokes like this was before. She was able to breathe again, and then Rachel knocked out her breath in five words. 

“I broke up with Tim.”

“Oh.” Lucy hated how breathless and stupidly underwhelming that sounded. 

“A month ago,” Rachel continued, looking at her coffee, not at Lucy, “I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn’t. I am sorry this is so fucked up, but I was angry with you.” 

“It’s okay,” Lucy said automatically, still stuck on processing the break up to wonder why Rachel would be mad at her.

“It’s really not.”

Unless Rachel knew. 

How Lucy felt. 

About Rachel’s boyfriend. 

Oh, fucking, no-

“No it’s really not,” Rachel repeated adamantly, her hands gesturing as if to calm a small child, “You didn’t do anything. Tim was very clear about that-”

“Clear about what?” Lucy’s head was spinning, and she wanted to understand, but she was also not sure she was ready for whatever came next. 

Tim never said anything about a break up-

“That nothing has happened between the two of you.” Rachel repeated looking as confused as Lucy felt.

“He is in love with you.” Rachel said like it was an indisputable fact, “You knew that right?”

“He’s not.” Lucy said it quickly, automatically. 

“Did he even tell you we broke up?”

“No,” Her voice was small and she hated it. 

“Typical Tim,” Rachel rolled her eyes, with a tint of affection and hurt in her voice. “All he talked about was you, less towards the beginning. But I mean, even at the start half his stories started with your name. What you did, what you thought. At first I thought it was because you introduced us, you were our point of connection. He takes his work so seriously. But after…”

“My abduction.” She didn’t fault Rachel for not being able to say it. Lucy had more practice, after all.

“Yes, after that,” Rachel looked halfway grateful, halfway something else, she couldn’t quite name, “It was like an obsession. He talked about you constantly. And he spent half of his off duty time with you, and the other half staring at his phone waiting for you to call or text, or just, need him. He had such a look of relief when you asked him to do anything. That was the thing that got me. He needed you to call, he didn’t feel guilty or responsible, he just wanted to be with you.”

“Rachel-”

“It’s okay,” Rachel flashed a small, sad, sort of smile, “We weren’t that serious, but I mean, still didn’t feel awesome. When I broke up with him he didn’t even look surprised. I told him he was in love with you, and he looked, resigned to it. I should have ended it sooner. The way he looked at you while you slept, in the hospital room. I knew then, but I couldn’t. I should have ended it sooner.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” She said, but it didn’t sound like her voice to her own ears. 

“He’s a good guy.” 

“Yah,” Lucy whispered, her thoughts cloudy and jumbled “He couldn’t, I mean he doesn’t-”

“Why Lucy?” Rachel said, and she reached out and squeezed her hand, once, before bringing it back to her coffee mug “You believe the best about people. You are beautiful, inside and out. You're good for him, and I think he’s good for you.”

Why didn’t he didn’t say any of this, if it’s true? 

Rachel took another sip of her coffee, and changed the subject to a client of hers that had been doing well, the last few weeks, not quite meeting Lucy’s eyes. 

Lucy didn’t realize her hands were shaking, until she tried to hold her own coffee, and half of its contents spilled over the sides. 

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

She half expected things to be different when she saw Tim later that night, but it wasn’t. 

He was gruff, with the same protective edge that didn’t read, to her as romantic, (it was like having a bunch of big brothers and sisters, working on the force, right?) 

He smiled at her more than he used to, but that was because everything had shifted. She wasn’t just his Rookie anymore, they formed a bond. He was her friend, she was his partner. It didn’t mean there were any other dynamics at play. 

She wanted to ask about Rachel that first night, but she didn’t. Months passed and it was easier to live in this middle space, seeing Tim at work and after, and on their days off. He never mentioned the break up, and she never mentioned her and Rachel’s coffee, and she found him becoming the most important person in her life. 

For a long time, he was the most important person for a long time. 

She convinced herself that she was okay with all of this. 

Then she saw the ring sitting on his bedside table. 

They had been watching a movie, and she had spilled half her beer down her front. He had nodded at his bedroom, and told her to get one of his shirts, and she had to suppress the little thrill that ran through her at the thought of wearing his clothes.

She had to suppress the fantasy that he would look at her and suddenly see someone different. 

Someone beautiful. 

She bit her lip as she opened different drawers, pulling out a worn LAPD t-shirt, that would be too big on her. As she pulled the soft fabric over her head, tugging it down, she saw it. 

The ring. 

It had been one of her favorites. One of the many beautiful things she cultivated, that she stored in a pretty tray with other pretty things. She had put it on, and curled her hair and when on a date. 

And then her life had changed forever. 

She was going to be sick. 

She slipped out the back door, while Tim was in the kitchen, and she drove home with her head spinning. 

He found her ring, and didn’t tell her. 

He found her. 

All these pieces had jagged edges and she didn’t know how to put them all together. 

Lucy ignored Tim’s call, and sent a text that she had a migraine, and wanted to sleep in her own bed, and she would bring his shirt back tomorrow. 

He texted her goodnight, and she didn’t know what to feel. 

I always knew he was going to break my heart, didn’t I?

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

She knocked on his door at seven the next morning. She had been up since three, but she couldn’t knock on his door in the middle of the night. 

That would be crazy, right? The only crazy thing about all of this, right?

She wanted to pace, but he couldn’t see her like that, when he opened the door. She was vibrating, and all that energy needed to escape or she would explode. 

He opened the door, and looked surprised. 

Asshole. 

Tim was beautiful, and he would have hated it if she called him that, and she was so angry at him but also wanted to pull him close and never let go. 

She shoved his shirt into his chest (she had done a load of laundry at four) and pushed past him, leaving Tim looking shell shocked in the doorway. 

“You have my ring.” Lucy said, trying to be firm, but she could hear her voice shake, “I want it back.”

“What.”

“My ring the one, that I was wearing when- I dropped it and-” Lucy said, out of breath and she wasn’t quite sure why, “I want it back.” 

“Sure, whatever you want,” He was following her, and being reasonable and it just made her want to scream. 

Why does he always get to be cool and collected? Why did she always have to be the one falling apart?

Fucking asshole. 

“You were the one who found me, who saved me-” She didn’t want to cry, but she was so tired, “You didn’t just do CPR, and hold me while we waited for the ambulance came, and watched me sleep in the hospital came-”

“I didn’t-” 

“You found me, not Nolan, not-” Lucy ignored him; she wasn’t going to listen to anymore lies, “And you didn’t say anything. Not a single thing.”

“You saved yourself,” Any other time that would have built her up. She was a badass cop, she can take care of herself. 

She can save herself. 

But right now she just felt fucking crazy. 

“Bullshit,” Lucy continued, “You found me, and you have been putting me back together, and we are just friends, or co-workers or Rookie and TO, and Rachel said, but then you lie to me. Why would you lie to me, after everything.”

“Lucy,” He was breaking her open, didn’t he know that?

“You can’t call me Lucy,” She ran her fingers through her hair, “I know you and Rachel broke up.”

“That’s between the two of us-” For the first time this whole, awful exchange Tim seemed angry. 

Good, this I can work with. 

“Pretty sure I am part of this too.” Lucy shot back, “According to Rachel I am and you didn’t tell me. Even if I’m not- I thought you were my friend. But you must hate me, or pity me or I don’t know resent me if you don’t share even the most basic parts of your life with me. .”

“You are my friend, of course you are,” The anger drained from his face, and now he looked panicked; it was unnerving, “I don’t hate you. What did she say-”

“That you are in love with me,” Lucy supplied, her voice crackling with electricity, “Don’t worry I don’t believe her.”

“You don’t-” Now he looked confused. 

Mother fucker.

“I mean, you obviously don’t respect me enough to tell me the truth.” Lucy spit out, “You obviously don’t love me. I can’t believe I wasted all this time. You could have broken my heart months ago, and I could be over all of this by now-”

“What are you talking about,” Tim looked annoyed again. 

Good. 

“I am, crazy about you.” She could feel tears streaming down her face, “You have to know that. I look to you. For everything. You are the best cop I know, you push me to be better. You help me up when I fall, and I can’t put you in a box anymore, things have shifted for me, I can’t push them back-”

Tim pulled her in by the waist and she felt like he was gravity and this was all inevitable, and how wonderfully, stupidly, perfect that was. But he was going to break her heart- 

What was he doing- 

He was holding her face in his hand, like she was something precious, and he was looking at her like she was something good, like she’s something beautiful. 

“Then don’t.” 

And then he kissed her, and everything was better, and she was pulled even further into his orbit, wrapping her arms around his neck, and leaning in.

“That was a bad idea.”

“No it wasn’t” He looked broken and everything was slotting into place, “Don’t say that.”

All those jagged, uneven pieces, were becoming clearer. The look on his face when she tells a bad joke. That time she caught him bragging about her to his poker buddies (“Well my book, can run a seven minute mile, in full tactical gear, so-”). That time he blushed when she came to get drinks in that red dress of hers.

Rachel was right. 

“You feel it, too” Lucy said, and it was like everything was shifting. 

Again. 

But this time for the better. 

“Lucy,” He didn’t say anything else, he just looked at her, and whipped something from her cheek (tears, the only thing that made sense was tears). 

That was okay though, she knew. All of that uncertainty, and now everything was crystal clear. 

“I still have two months as your Rookie,” She hated bringing that up but, it wasn’t like anyone would let her forget it, if they found out. 

“I will find you someone else to work with,” Tim said quickly, “Someone good. I can pull a few strings-”

“Will you wait for me two months,” She interrupted, “We can be co-workers, and people will still be judgmental assholes, but less, and we won’t have the same weird power thing-”

“I’d wait for you,” His voice broke, “A lot longer than two months.”

“Okay,” Lucy said breathlessly, and then she was throwing her arms around him, pulling him into her orbit this time. This time was different, she knew how singularly focused he could be, but this was overwhelming. One minute she was standing on her own two feet, and the next her legs were wrapped around him and she was pressed up against something, a door, a wall, did it actually matter?

She wanted to drown in it, but she couldn’t. 

She tore herself away, out of breath, (but still between him and the wall or door, with electricity pooling between her legs). 

“That was the last one,” Lucy said, more to herself than Tim, as she forced herself to pull away (and put two feet firmly on the ground), “For two months anyway.”

“Okay,” His eyes were doing that annoying twinkly thing. 

(Annoying, mostly because she wanted to drag him back to his bedroom, and ignore what she just said.) 

“I will see at work tomorrow,” Lucy said, out of breath and so, so happy. She didn’t want to leave, but if she stayed, she would never leave. 

“Okay,” She turned away, forcing herself to walk to the door, only turning back when she heard her name, “Lucy.”

“Yah?”

“I am not going to go easier on you now.”

Lucy smiled, and she felt like she was radiating sunshine. 

“Counting on it.” She wanted to laugh or giggle or run back and kiss him again, until they were both laughing. Instead she bit her lip, and gave him a little salute, and turned away again. 

Lucy felt his eyes on her as she walked away, but she didn’t turn back and look. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to walk out that door. 

Two months. 

She could handle two months. 

She looked at her phone, as she plugged it into her car’s charger (the one that she finally replaced), and saw a text from Tim. 

_I’m crazy about you too._

_Just for the record._

As she drove home, she turned on the radio, and couldn’t keep a stupid, huge grin off of her face. 

LA is beautiful in spring. How could I have never noticed that before?


	2. like real people do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim had always been good at putting things in boxes. 
> 
> OR 
> 
> Tim and Lucy make it work, even when it's hard (especially when it's hard).

Tim had always been good at putting things in boxes. 

He could draw strict boundaries between the parts of his life, between work and home. What separates good cops from bad, separating rookies from real cops. Who were the good guys, who were the bad guys. 

He had known what his life should look like, the things he needed to do to keep his life the way he thought it ought to be. 

But then things happened, and the world was more grey. 

For the first time since being a little kid, he couldn't just rebuild, or draw a cleared boundary, or just shut out the cause of his world shifting. 

He was shifted, though, he was moved. 

If he was going to chart the change in his life, and the way he moved through it, he could have looked to Isabelle, and the slow, agonizing demise of a marriage; for so long she was the only thing he loved, what was his life supposed to look like, when the woman he fell in love with didn’t exist anymore? What was he supposed to do when she got sober, and they still couldn't put those jagged pieces back together?

He could have looked to Bishop and Lopez, who pushed and pulled him into looking at the world through different perspectives (while making fun of absolutely everything he did). He could look to Captain Anderson, who made him, and the rest of the ‘by the book’, macho, contingent of the LAPD, better. He could even look to Nolan, who, for better or worse, shifted his idea who a rookie was, who a cop was.

But, nothing made his world more blurry, uncertain, and challenging than Lucy Chen. It didn’t even matter, at the beginning, that she made his life brighter, and that she made him feel more alive (like walking out from behind the shadow that Isabelle left in her wake). 

All he could feel at first was threatened, as she pushed back, asked the tough questions, and never believed what he said without first interrogating his assumptions six ways to Sunday. 

It didn’t matter that she was right most of the time, or that she believed in people, and wanted to be a cop to make the world a better place. It didn’t matter that she was funny, earnest, and beautiful. 

(He told himself that he couldn’t notice she was beautiful; it had never been a problem with other rookies, but with her it was a problem, right from the beginning). 

Then, without noticing, all that Lucy was, mattered.

He was dating Rachel, and then Lucy was kidnapped, and things had already shifted, but now they were infinitely harder to ignore. He suddenly couldn’t pretend that she didn’t move him like a magnet. That he didn’t always want to know what she was thinking, her moods, her wants and needs. 

He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t wonder what it would be, to be more with her. 

So he tried to shove her into boxes, rookie, kid, fellow officer. When that didn’t work he tried a friend, and partner, but then she outgrew that too. 

Rachel, who was beautiful, smart and kind and deserved a hell of a lot more, put the words to what he was feeling, before he could even acknowledge what was going on in his own mind. 

“You know you are in love with her,” Rachel said, like she didn’t realize she was cracking his world in two, “Right?”

So Rachel and him broke up, and he continued to ignore all the blurry lines, and the useless boxes, and then Lucy pushed him. 

(She was so good at that). 

In fifteen minutes, she had knocked him over with an “I’m crazy about you”, they had kissed (twice), and they had decided to wait two months to start dating. 

Then, like the tornado of a person she was, she left, and a week later, he still wasn’t sure what hit him. 

They worked, took calls in the shop, punched parallel punching bags, and they saw each other at the local cop bar, (with the other cops around, only). Going from seeing each other constantly, to only within these confines was jarring. 

(She had weaved her way into so much of his life, and he had done the same to hers). 

It should have been weird when they were spending time together, but it wasn’t (maybe all the lines had been so deeply eroded, that what they were to each other stayed static, wherever they were- it was just the roles they were playing that was different). 

Sure there were moments. Goodbyes, and quiet moments and stakeouts, where he couldn’t not remember what it felt like to have her legs wrapped around his waist, or the wonderfully horrible pang in his stomach when she said she had feelings for him (that he wasn’t alone in his feelings; how amazing, how terrifying). 

And now he was standing at a bar, with a bunch of cops trying not to stare at a girl he liked like he was 12-years-old. 

(Never mind that she was a woman, and he more than liked her; he had enough to contend with). 

“You're staring,” Lopez said, before taking a sip of her beer. 

Tim tore his eyes from Lucy, and fixed them on his own beer. She had been laughing at something Nolan said, and he wanted to know what the joke was that made her double over the table. 

“What are you talking about?” Tim hoped he sounded nonchalant, but he really doubted it. 

“Just saying,” Lopez put her hands up, with fake innocence lacing her voice, “You could go over there and have a drink with them, no one would think it’s strange.” 

Tim shot her a look. 

“Strange now, I mean,” Lopez rolled her eyes, “A year ago, people might have some questions.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim took a sip of his own beer, trying to look at anything that wasn’t Lucy or Lopez. 

“That so?” Lopez was half laughing, as she shook her head, “Listen, it’s up to you. But staring at her across the room isn’t less conspicuous. Just, so you know.” 

Lucy looked over her shoulder, right then and shot him a quick smile, before turning back to Jackson, and Nolan.

“Damn,” Lopez said mildly, looking at Tim, then Lucy, then back again, “You're screwed.” 

It took everything that Tim had, not to agree. 

Lucy took a sip of her beer before, turning and looking at him again, this time biting her lip. 

Yes, Tim was absolutely, and completely screwed. 

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LA traffic never didn’t suck, even in a cop car (people started driving slower, so it was actually worse than in his pick up). It was unseasonably warm, and they hadn’t had a good call all day, and Tim was trying not to let the annoyance and boredom seep out of his pores.

Lucy seemed like, well, Lucy.

She was buzzing with the nervous energy that could only mean one thing. She was going to break the clean equilibrium that they had been living in the past week and half (11 days, but who was counting? Tim, Tim was counting.) 

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed (what if she didn’t want to do this anymore, and she only had the guts to admit it now?)

“You know, we could still watch movies,” Lucy said, breaking the silence. 

“Yes,” Tim replied, slightly bemused that Lucy was nervous to say something so inacouse. 

“I mean,” Lucy blushed, and he shouldn’t be so affected by it (but he was), “We could watch a movie, have a couple beers.”

He was so tempted to agree. To see her at work and in her apartment, and in his living room. To watch dumb comedies, and make dinner side by side. If they acted like they did before, after they had kissed, and said what they really meant to each other-

Waiting to be together until after Lucy’s graduation would be so much harder. 

“Is that a good idea?” Tim said, trying to sound like her T.O. and not like a worried boyfriend. 

“We weren’t doing anything before,” Lucy reasoned. “We could keep that going, for-”

“6 weeks.”

“Yah, Tim,” Lucy said softly, and he didn’t need to look at her, to know she was smiling, “For the next six weeks.” 

“I can wait six weeks,” Tim said, before he could change his mind. 

“Me too.” Lucy said, “But I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“Good,” Lucy shot him that smile she always had when she knew something he didn’t (or she thought he didn’t). 

“Good?” 

“I said what I said,” Lucy was looking out the windows now, “That guy almost killed that biker, driving in the bike lane, to avoid this gridlock-”

“Alright then,” Tim turned on the siren, “Works for me.” 

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Tim understood the rationale for rookies to be with each T.O. before the end of their probationary year. Hell, most years he enjoyed terrifying the other rookies who were always a bit more soft then the cops he trained. 

This week was different. 

Sure, he missed riding with Lucy (getting to be in the same space as her, even within the boundaries of work), but it was more than that. 

He knew she was in good hands with Lopez, but it also made him on edge, not knowing where she was, what scrapes she might be getting into. 

He felt better when he was the one who had her back. 

It was five minutes until the end of shift, and he was itching to see Lucy before she went home (he was looking forward to seeing his rookie for five minutes after a twelve hour shift; he really didn’t know who he was anymore.)

Five weeks until graduation. Things could be different in five weeks. 

His phone rang, and he knew something was off as soon as he saw who was calling. 

“Don’t kill me,” Lopez starts “And Lucy is completely fine-”

“What happened,” Tim was already walking towards his car, not even bothering to bark orders at Nolan before he left. 

(He was almost eleven months into the program, if he didn’t know how to log the days arrest, and fill up the shop, that was on Nolan). 

“We’re at Cedars-Sinai,” Lopez continued, “Lucy needs stitches, she will be so annoyed I told you, she said you would overreact-”

Tim was in auto mode the entire drive, breaking some traffic laws that he would have happily written up anyone else for. Lopez texted him about where Lucy’s room was, and he ignored the greetings from the nurse at reception, and found them without much fanfare (it was a good thing he was already in his street clothes, when Lopez called, because he would have marched in here in uniform if need be). 

Lucy was holding something to her arm, still in her shortsleeves and uniform, her belt lying on the table beside her. Lopez was nowhere to be seen. 

“I’m fine,” Lucy said, before he could even open his mouth. 

“You’re in the hospital,” Tim crossed the room trying to catalogue visible injuries. She had a scrape left hand, and underneath the white gauze something was turning it sickly pink. “By definition your not fine.”

“I’m in the hospital,” Lucy rolled her eyes, her voice all manufactured lightness, “Being fine. A suspect pushed me during arrest and I fell on a broken bottle. Once the bleeding stops I can get stitches and go home.”

She did seem to be in one piece, and they both have had much worse injuries on the job, but he couldn’t quiet his racing heart. 

He couldn’t help but remember the last time he had seen her sitting on a hospital bed. She was getting released and her face was still red and bruised, and she was having trouble sitting up all the way without wincing. She had smiled and assured everyone she was fine then, too. 

She was a cop, he loved that she was a cop (and a damn good one), but part of him wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap. 

“Are they running-” Tim started. 

“A full panel of tests?” Lucy finished his un-asked question, “Of course I’m not an idiot, and neither is Lopez.”

“Where is she anyway?” Tim asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Why had she left Lucy by herself, holding her own wound? 

“She had to talk with Sergent Grey about something urgent,” Lucy said, fixing him with a hard stare. “I told her she could take the call outside. Is the integration over now?”

Tim nodded, Lucy smiled, and for the first time since he got the call, he took a breath.

He couldn’t help himself from tucking a lock of hair that had escaped her intricately braided braid, back into place, and keeping his hand there.

“I’m really okay,” Lucy murmured, leaning into his hand, for a moment, “Don’t be mad at Angela.” 

Of course two days into being in a shop together Lucy was already calling her Angela. 

Typical. 

“I’m not,” Tim said, half meaning it. 

“I was totally right,” Lucy sounded tired, but a bit smug, “Knew you would overreact.”

“I am reacting to a perfectly respectable amount,” Tim said and didn’t believe his own words for a second. 

“Whatever,” Lucy rolled her eyes, again, but this time she was smiling. 

Just then, a very young looking doctor walked in with sutures. 

“Want to hold my hand,” Lucy said teasing, but with a hint of anxiety lacing her voice. 

Tim didn’t answer, he just laced their fingers together.

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It was one of those days. The days that happen too frequently, and should get easier but don’t, not really. They both were in the shop, parked outside the station, not talking or getting ready to walk into the station, just, sitting in a half comfortable silence. 

“You okay?” Tim asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Fine.” Lucy said quickly, then paused, “Terrible. You?”

“Same,” He wanted to hold her and never let go.

He wanted to drive her home, make her dinner, and pour her a glass of wine. 

He wanted to talk about the kid without a mom, and the father who was the reason why. He wanted to tell her about his own dad, and for her to tell him stories of when she was growing up. 

He wanted to be with her. He didn’t want to wait a month to be with her. 

“I should get going,” Lucy murmured, “I want to get changed and get out of here.” 

“Okay.” 

Tim hated watching her walk away. 

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He was half asleep when he heard a knock at his door. He glanced over at his alarm clock, and it was 11:30. 

“Lucy,” He started as he opened his door, only half surprised to see her. 

The image of that woman, was still so fresh; she was bloodied and broken on the floor of her apartment, her two year old crying in the other room-

“I just,” Lucy’s voice broke, “Don’t want to be alone tonight, is that okay.” 

“Of course,” Tim said without thinking. If she needed something he could give, of course she could have it.

It was harder to admit to himself that he needed her here, too. That her trauma mirrored his, and that the memories of dragging her out of barrel had been mixed with peeling himself off the bathroom tile when he talked back to his father one time too many. 

Lucy wrapped her arms around her neck and he felt tears on her face, and he sunk into her.

“Just one night,” Lucy breathed into his neck. 

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When they woke up those lines he had been drawing, ‘platonic until her graduation’ were all but gone. 

How was he supposed to ignore the memory of how she looked in his bed, curled around him, as they fell asleep?

How was he supposed to pretend that he wasn’t completely in love with her, as she whispered all her hopes and fears into his chest, and he did the same? 

How was he supposed to pretend he didn’t want her, when he woke up with her in his ancient Academy t-shirt, looking up at him through her eye lashes?

“We still have a month until your graduation,” Tim said, instead of good morning. 

“Do you want me?” Lucy, of course, always found the words to knock him on his ass, time and time again. 

“You know I do,” She let out a breath, like he could possibly have said something else. Like he didn’t want her all the time, in every way. Like he didn’t think about those two kisses, and spin out every way they could have ended, if things were different. 

As if she wasn’t the star of every fantasy he had, every lone moment, that ended with him wanting to call her. 

“I just,” Lucy breathed out, inching closer to him, “Life is too short. I want to know-”

Before she could finish, he took her face in his hand and kissed her like he had been wanting too for a month. He could drown in her if he wasn’t careful, and he desperately wanted to be reckless. 

His hands kept moving, from her hips, ass, up her stomach ghosting over her flower tattoo, and her hands gripped his neck, and he really didn’t care if she left scratches (he wanted to cover her body with evidence that he was there, consequences be damned). He moved to her neck and sucked, and she moaned, and he wanted to make her do that over and over again. 

He tore away, out of breath.

“Are you sure?” 

Lucy nodded, and Tim dragged her on top of him. She peeled off his shirt and it was a good thing it was their day off, because he didn’t plan on letting her out of this bed until, much, much later. 

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Tim had rolled his eyes when he had seen rookies, time and time again, drink too much at cop bars, singing off key at karaoke, and overall making a fool of themselves. He had always believed you had two beers, swapped horror stories and left after a few hours, like a professional. 

He was so happy Lucy didn’t feel the same. 

He nursed a beer and she danced with Jackson, who spun her around the floor, and sang off key with Nolan on the bar’s stage, (‘no scrubs’, looking directly at him and laughing when he rolled his eyes). 

It had been a week since their night together, and an eventful morning (that particular event happened three times but who's counting). She had spent two nights at his place, since, and as perfect and wonderful as that had been, he was so happy to see her just have fun. He hadn’t seen that since the ‘before’ and he was just grateful it wasn’t another thing Caleb had taken from her. 

It was hard to ignore how much younger she was then him, though, when she finally got to act like the 29-year-old she was. He felt a pang of guilt as he thought would she be happier with someone her own age?

Lucy was the one who broke his self sabotaging train of thought, as she plopped herself down next to him. 

“Hi,” Lucy said, slightly slurring her speech. “How’s your night going?”

“Lucy.” Her eyes closed a second too long to be considered blinking, and she sagged a little further into her chair. 

“Mhhm.”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

“Yes,” Her eyes opened wide and that, and she shot him a wide, easy smile. “Let me go tell Jackson.”

She got up and crossed the room, throwing her arms around Jackson, saying something into his ear that made him laugh. 

It took everything he had not to hold her hand as they walked to her truck, but he managed (it was already way too risky for him to drive her home, from a cop bar, but he was willing to risk it). 

“You look nice,” Lucy said, with no sequitur, as she settled herself in his passenger seat. 

“Yah?” Tim tried to keep the laughter out of his voice. 

“Yah,” Lucy nodded seriously, “I am going with it, you look nice.”

“How much have you had to drink?” He asked, as though he had not been keeping track of the tequila shots she had ordered. 

“Don’t change the subject,” Lucy said, mildly.

“From what?”

“Eh,” Lucy giggled, “Good point.”

Tim kept driving, and Lucy lent further back into her seat. 

“I had some shots of tequila,” Lucy half sang, “I will admit that.”

“You deserve to have some fun.”

“I thought I would feel,” Lucy whispered, “Out of control. The first time getting tipsy or, let’s be honest, pretty drunk, after, everything. It was just fun.”

“Yah?”

“I knew nothing would happen to me.” She said it like that was a good thing, but his stomach dropped. Of course, that had been the thing keeping her from acting her age, that fear he would never truly know. 

He wished he had been the one to kill Caleb.

“You were with Jackson,” Tim supplied, “and Nolan.”

“You were there,” Lucy looked right at him, her eyes looking straight through him, “Nothing was going to happen to me, because you were there.”

When Tim finally thought of something to say in response to that, he realized Lucy was already asleep.

She woke up when he was parked in front of her building. 

“Can you stay the night?” Lucy said hopefully, and sleepily, and she looked so cute, “In a PG way, promise.”

“Whatever you want” Tim said, and she smiled. 

After making her drink a glass of water, and take off her makeup, she curled up next to him in her bed, wearing a t-shirt she must have stolen from his house. 

He must have seemed tense because she huffed into his neck, with annoyance, as she tried to get settled. 

“You can relax. Or take a breath or something. I won’t bite.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

She had laughed and blushed, and it hit him right in the chest, just like the first time he ever made her do that. 

As quickly as she fell asleep in his car, she was out like a light, but it took him longer. 

As he fell asleep, he was thinking about how he would always give her whatever she wanted. 

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Lucy and Tim were nursing beers, standing a respectful distance apart, in their cop bar, trying not to look at Nolan and his girlfriend, who were slow dancing (Grace? Lucy said her name was Grace?)

He wondered if that could ever be them, not that he had ever been comfortable with PDA. It would be nice though, to be able to reach out and hold Lucy’s hand, or place his hand at the small of her back, or tuck her hair behind her ear, without having to worry about some off duty cop seeing, and telling half the station. 

In a few weeks it would be better. They still wouldn’t be able to advertise their relationship, but she wouldn’t be a rookie and he wouldn’t be her T.O, and things could be better. 

(He also had plans, ones he hadn’t shared with her yet, not wanting to scare her off, where he would pass the sergeants exam and apply for a transfer to a different station. She would get to rise through the ranks, without their relationship being a scarlet letter). 

“I’m happy for them,” Lucy said, shooting a look at the couple, kind of wistful, before turning back to Tim, her head tilted like she was regarding him. 

“What’s up, Lucy?” 

“You know I dated Nolan” Lucy asked, “Right?”

Something ugly bloomed in the pit of his stomach. 

“Come again?”

“When we were in the Academy,” Lucy looked embarrassed now, as she peeled at beer’s label, “And after. We broke it off two months into being rookies together-”

“Okay,” Tim said, hoping to get her to stop talking. He knew that the three of rookies were close, and that of course Lucy had not been a nun before they met-

Was he just another older cop? Was that just her type? 

“I was sure I told you.” Lucy looked at her feet, and Tim tried not to feel unbelievably stupid. “You're mad.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about, boot,” He cringed at the harshness of his own voice. 

“Boot?” Lucy laughed, with no humor in her voice, “You are really mad.”

“Look-” 

“You dated Isabelle when you two were rookies and at the Academy.” Lucy’s voice raised, then lowered again, looking around to make sure no one was paying them any attention, “You dated one of my best friends.” 

“You set us up.” Tim said quickly. 

“Whatever,” Lucy grabbed her bag, from the table, putting it over her shoulder, “Just thought you should know. Being honest or whatever.” 

Tim regretted not stopping her the second she walked out the door. He threw down a twenty on the table, and pushed by some half drunk cops to get to the door. 

“Lucy,” She turned in the middle of the parking lot to face him, her arms crossed,“Wait.”

“Yes?” Lucy’s eyes were red and he felt like an asshole (well more of an asshole). 

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, “I’m an idiot.”

“I know,” Lucy’s eyes were still red, but she was smiling now. 

“I just got-”

“Jealous.” 

“Maybe,” Tim let out a breath, “A little.”

Lucy reached out and grabbed his hand, and at that moment he didn’t care if anyone saw. 

“It’s different, you know,” Lucy murmured, “Us and me and Nolan.”

“Yah?” Tim couldn’t help it, but he sounded painfully, vulnerably, hopeful.

“Yah,” Lucy squeezed his hand, “It’s worth the risk. It wasn’t with him. I liked him, but- It’s just different.”

“Good to know,” Tim replied, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, “Are you coming over tonight?”

“Will you still have me?” Lucy was tilting her head again, and she was looking straight through him. 

She was asking a hell of a lot more than the words she was saying. 

“Always.” 

She smiled, and turned, walking towards his truck. 

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They were sitting on his couch, both sipping at beers, not doing much of anything, with her feet resting in his lap, the game muted in the background. 

“I just,” Lucy murmured, breaking the comfortable silence, “I feel crazy, all the time.”

Tim turned off the TV, before focusing all his attention on her. 

“What do you mean?” 

“These lines I draw,” Lucy didn’t look upset, just kind of thoughtful, “Of being damaged, from well you know. Damaged and recovered, like I can draw a line between the two. I have had more therapy, then is probably helpful, and I know it’s not that simple. It can’t be that simple.”

“What’s bringing all this up?” Tim wished he could catalogue her trauma, like he could with other injuries. That they would heal, but he knew better than anyone that scars healed a lot easier than the rest. 

“I don’t know how to,” Lucy stopped, then started again, “It’s like, I’m fine and good and happy and then it all hits me again. I hear someone’s voice and it sounds a bit like Calebs, or the elevator is taking longer between floors like usual, and I should be over all this by now, or not feel it as much. It still hits me so hard.”

“Do you want the easy answer or the hard answer.”

Tim studied her face, as he waited for an answer. 

“Easy, no hard, neither, really” Lucy said, biting her lip and looking away, “Which one’s true?”

“Both,” Tim tried to smile, and hoped he was semi-convincing, “Come on boot, what do you take me for.”

“Easy then hard,” Lucy replied, looking him in the eye. 

“Okay,” Tim took a breath, “It will get easier, the further you're out from it. One day you’ll realize you haven’t thought about it, all day, and it will feel wrong, but great too.”

“The hard answer?” Lucy was never one to run away when it got tough. 

“It’s never not going to be part of you too.”

“Afraid of that,” Lucy let out a halting breath. 

“Look,” Tim leaned closer so they were a foot apart, her legs half curled over his lap, “We get a choice, is this going to be a deficit or an asset? It’s still a scar, it will always be a scar, but are you going to use it to be a better cop, a better person?”

Lucy nodded. 

“Is that how you feel, about your dad?”

“Not sure I am that evolved,” Tim admitted, “To be perfectly honest.”

“That’s fair.” Lucy nodded, “I am not sure I am either. Want to be though.”

“Yah,” Tim smiled a sad sort of smile, “Me, too.” 

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The best part about working a string of night shifts, was getting Lucy for a string of hazy, lazy mornings. 

She was always beautiful, but this might be his favorite version of her, warm, and happy, and untroubled, the light illuminating the ends of her hair, her eye’s flashing from sex to laughter with a blink of an eye. 

It was here, in his bed, that they could pretend the rest of the roles they played, lines they had drawn were far and away. 

“I graduate in a week,” Lucy turned towards him, the sheet moving a little further down her back. 

“Mhmm.” Tim murmured, fully distracted, as he tried to decide what was his favorite part of this picture. The rose’s peeking out from her rib, the freckles on her rib, the messy waves that he had threaded his fingers through only hours ago. 

Nope, it was those eyes fixing him with a stare, and what he wouldn’t have given up in that moment, to keep them fixed on him. 

“You going to get me a present?” Lucy smiled, teasingly, like the complete brat she was. 

(God, he loved her). 

“What do you want?” Tim said, trying to sound put upon, and not absolutely charmed. 

“Hmm,” Lucy’s brows furrowed, in fake concentration, “What do you want to get me?”

“Trick question,” Tim replied easily. 

“It’s really not,” Lucy laughed and she kissed him, soft and sweet, twice.

“I love you,” He couldn’t stop himself from saying it. 

(He didn’t want to stop himself). 

It was true, and even if she didn’t feel the same, and she deserved to know it.

She made his life better, in every conceivable way, and he loved her. 

“I love you, too,” Lucy was looking at him like he was something precious, and good, and his heart was breaking, wonderfully.

“You still need to get me a present, though.” 

Tim laughed, and once he did, she did too, with light filtered through the curtains, making patterns on her back and his chest. 

It was messy, this life they were building. Some people knew what was happening between them, and some didn’t. The idea that their relationship could cast a shadow of Lucy’s burgeoning career was a real fear. 

At another time that would have pushed him away, it wouldn’t have been worth it. But Lucy was worth it, and the thing that they were building, that was something solid, something sure. 

Something real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this fic! I so appreciate all the comments and kudos, it means a lot, especially everyone wanting a part 2, it really pushed me to get this work done :) 
> 
> I have two ideas for a new chenford fic, let me know which one I should start, in the comments:
> 
> \- Lucy and Tim meet in a bar, and hook up before they start working together (when she's in the academy)  
> \- Lucy and Tim decide to be friends with benefits, in a cannon divergence (start of season two) 
> 
> If you have other, one shot ideas that you want for this pairing let me know!


	3. tell me, tell me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Lucy have never liked secrets. 
> 
> OR
> 
> How everyone finds out (or how they realize everyone knew already)

Lucy had never been one for secrets. 

Maybe it was growing up with two psychologists, (who also happened to be perpetual over sharers) as parents. Maybe it was just something in her DNA; while her friends found secret crushes, secret notes, and secret journals the height of fun and intrigue, she just found it all dull and tiring. She just never saw the benefit of it; it felt too close to lying, and it always seemed to do more harm than good.

Then she dated Nolan, and kept it a secret. A lot of good that did; keeping it a secret, and the awful wonders of what would happen if everyone found out, ended their relationship. She told herself she was never doing that again, no matter how tempting. 

But, Tim was more then tempting. He went from a mentor, to friend, to partner in everything, so fast that it could make her head spin, and so slowly she didn’t really notice it was happening. 

Now he made her coffee, when she had a latter night then he did, and he let her steal all of his old t-shirts, sweatshirts and sweats. He held her hand, and woke her up when she had night terrors, holding her until she could fall back asleep. He helped her study for her TO exam, even though she probably wouldn’t get tapped to take it for another six months to a year (she liked to be prepared). 

He was her partner, in every sense of the word, except professionally, and she couldn’t tell anyone about him. 

He had always been adamant, and so had she; they would keep it a secret until there was an opening in another station for Tim to find a place as sergeant. After he was gone a couple months, they could stop keeping it all under wraps, but still not flaunt the relationship (there were words for cops who dated cops, of course it only seemed derogatory for the female officers). 

She found herself wanting to tell everyone, to shout about him, about them, from the rooftops, damn the consequences, and the racist, sexist cops who would care who she was with. 

(How was she supposed to keep this a secret, when it made her happier than anything she had ever known?) 

Lucy regarded Tim, leaning over the counter a bit, as he poured pancake batter into a sizzling pan.

It was nice, having her apartment to herself, while Jackson was over at Sterling’s. She got to have Tim in her bed, cooking in her kitchen, and didn’t have to always be at Tim's place. Not that she didn’t like his house, but it was clearly his house. No matter how many drawers he gave her, or how much of the closet she commandeered. 

This was her first apartment that she felt like she had any ownership over, that she decorated, with all of her things. When Tim stayed over, it was perfect; she got to walk around in her underwear and Tim’s LAPD shirt and pretend that this is how she woke up every morning. 

(That this was how she was going to spend every morning, for the rest of her life). 

“You have a thinking face on,” Tim commented, mildly, as he flipped a pancake onto the plate next to the burner. 

“Maybe,” Lucy said, resting her chin on her hand, “Or maybe I’m just objectifying my hot boyfriend as he cooks me breakfast, in my kitchen.”

She cocked her head to the side to look at his ass for good measure. 

“I know your objectifying look, too,” Tim smirked, “It’s not that. Okay maybe it’s a little bit that.”

Tim swerved as she tried to swat him with a dish towel, laughing. 

“I know that we have not told anyone,” Lucy bit her lip, “About us, for good reasons-” 

“Your career, for one,” Tim raised an eyebrow. 

“Yah,” Lucy walked around the counter, to put her hands around Tim’s neck, “But I wish it didn’t have to be like that. I wish you could just be my boyfriend here, and at work. I mean I haven’t been your rookie for-”

“Less than two months,” Lucy rolled her eyes, of course he had to be a pessimist about all of this. 

“Well when you put it like that-” Lucy dropped her hands from his neck, and went under his arm, grabbing a piece of a sizzling pancake off the plate. 

“Hands off the pancakes,” Tim caught her around the middle, and she grinned, “Until they’re all done.”

“How are you going to make me?” Lucy teased. 

“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” Tim smirked, and she shrieked as she was lifted up, and her ass was on the counter, with her boyfriend standing between her legs. 

“You got me right where you want me,” Lucy bit her lip and batted her eyelashes, “What are you going to do about it?”

“You are nothing but trouble.”

Lucy giggled, as she brought Tim’s lips to hers, tugging him closer to her, the pancakes completely forgot. 

She must not have heard the door open, because the first thing she heard was Jackson’s half shocked, half annoyed, yelp. 

“Okay,” Jackson turned around, his hands over his eye, “Nope, not okay.”

“Jackson,” Lucy winced, looking at Tim and then Jackson, wondering how she could possibly salvage this train wreck. 

(Especially when Tim quickly stepped away, and looked at the floor, thoroughly mollified.)

“I have waited until you were going to tell me. Waited even though this,” Jackson gestured wildly at the two of them, “Was getting ridiculously hard to ignore. So many heart eyes, it’s kind of stupid. I mean, your gone half the week, every week, and Officer Bradford was just here the other day, for no reason-”

“You can call him Tim-”

“I really can’t,” Jackson turned towards them, his hand still over his eyes. 

“Jackson,” Lucy let out a breath.

“Yes.”

“Would you like to meet my boyfriend?” 

“I would be delighted to,” Jackson nodded, firmly, “After you put some clothes on-”

He pointed at Lucy, his hand finally leaving his eyes, to land on his hip. 

“And you,” Jackson pointed at Tim, “Make me some damn pancakes.”

Tim shot Jackson a look, and he looked shaken in response.

“Sir.” 

Lucy stifled a giggle at the incredulous look on Tim’s face. She hopped down from the counter and gave Tim a quick kiss on the cheek as she passed. 

“Better do as he says,” Lucy called behind her, “Honestly, easiest for everyone.” 

By the time she was back, with sleep shorts on, Tim and Jackson were making companionable small talk and Jackson had the biggest stack of pancakes in front of him. 

There were pancakes set aside for her too, with strawberries, like she liked. 

She slid next to Tim, and mouthed “thank you” when Jackson was not looking. She hoped he knew that she was talking about the pancakes, but the look on his face made her 90% sure she was understood. 

With a smile, he kissed her head, and asked Jackson another question about his shop. 

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Tim had never been one for secrets. 

When he and Isabelle had started up, a lifetime ago, he never understood her reluctance to tell everybody. He was too young then, to realize all the implications it could have for her, her life, and her career. She was always ahead of him, in that respect. 

Now he wasn’t a young man, and Lucy was precious to him in a way that he couldn’t fully articulate or understand. He knew how important her career was to her, and there was no way he was going to be the end of it. 

So she graduated, and he waited for a sergeant's position to open up, and they waited in a kind of limbo. 

(A mostly wonderful limbo). 

They were, for all intents and purposes living together, of course neither of them said that. She spent half the week at his house, and he spent the other half at her apartment. At work they were strictly fellow officers, former T.O and rookie. They didn’t even ride together any more (which was not an easy transition for him, in any respect). They were professional, distant even, all day. Then he would get home, and she was his girlfriend, and no one knew (well besides West). 

Lucy was looking at him carefully, from the other side of his kitchen table.

“There’s some people I want to tell.” Lucy looked over her wine glass, “Not everyone, and I’ll be careful, but I think it would be good. Healthy.”  
Tim felt something twinge in his stomach. Part of him wanted everyone to know, all the time.

At the cop bar when drunk patrolmen stared at her ass, and sidled up to him to ask if he thought she was single. When he was talking to his mom on the phone, and his old army buddies, and he could only share part of who Lucy was to him (he wanted them to know all about her, everything that made her so special to him). 

There were other times when he looked at her, and she was so important to him, and this thing they created together as close to perfect as he had ever known, and he wanted to shield it from everyone who wasn’t them. 

But she was looking at him hopefully, so he smiled. 

“Who do you want to tell first?”

“Let me finish, okay,” Lucy put her wine glass down, not quite meeting his eye, “Before you get all judgey.”

Tim nodded, already not liking where this was going.

“John is one of my closest friends,” Lucy reasoned, “Jackson knows, and he should know too. He wouldn’t say anything, to anyone.”

Lucy was looking at him imploringly, and he almost wished it was as easy to say no to her now, as it had been when they first met. 

“I trust you.” Tim said, trying to keep the simmering of worry, jealousy, and fear at bay. 

“I know you do,” Lucy said softly, and her smile (almost) made what he agreed to worth it. 

Tim almost forgot, that Lucy was going to tell Nolan, until three weeks later when he saw him barrel towards him at a cop bar, sitting next to him, beer in hand. 

“You know that this could ruin her?” Nolan said, as a greeting, “Right.”

“Hello to you too,” Tim said, “Officer Nolan.”

Nolan looked so self righteous, Tim really wished that he was just some rookie he could dismiss, not one of Lucy’s friends. 

(And ex-boyfriend, and Tim wishes he was evolved enough for that to not bother him, even a little). 

“Don’t play coy,” Nolan glared, “Lucy matters too much.”  
He was her friend. They both cared about Lucy. That was at least a language they could both share. 

“I am leaving,” Tim put down his own beer, trying to keep his voice even, “I passed the sergeants exam and I am transferring stations.”

“I didn’t realize it was that…” Nolan looked surprised. 

“That what?” Tim tried to keep his voice non-judgmental. 

(He was pretty sure he was failing; who wasn’t great at that when he liked the person sitting across from him). 

“Serious.” 

Anger bubbled up, and he had to take a breath before he said something he would regret. 

“What did Lucy tell you,” Tim asked, evenly. 

“Not to be mad at you.” Nolan tried to keep the disgust off his face and didn’t quite manage it. 

Tim smiled despite himself. 

“Typical,” Tim shook his head. 

“What do you mean by that?” Nolan snapped.

“She would care more about how you talked to me,” Tim’s voice was razor thin, “Then how you talked to her. Were you this nice when she told you?”

Nolan deflated slightly at that.

“I might not have been at my best.” 

Tim made the note to check in with Lucy later. If Nolan had hurt her feelings, and she hadn’t shared it with Tim, to protect him, he really wanted her to know she didn’t have to do that. 

Not ever. 

“Well,” Tim took a breath, “It is serious, and I am moving stations. We are making this work.” 

Nolan nodded, and they sipped their beers in silence for a minute or two. 

“You know,” Nolan’s voice calm and about as close to friendly as it was going to get, “If you hurt her, me and Jackson are coming after you with a lot worse than a shovel.”

“Good.” Tim responded, meaning it. 

“Good.” Nolan, almost smiled. 

After a moment, Tim looked at Nolan, and he realized they were on the same team. 

Even if they were never going to like each other. 

“I know you care about her,” Tim said simply, “I am in love with her.”

“Yah,” Nolan looked at him, his face unreadable, “If she doesn’t get everything she deserves, it’s on you.”

Tim wished he could say that he didn’t watch Nolan leave, but that would have been a lie. 

The only thing he hated more than secrets, was lies. 

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Lucy knew that Rachel deserved to know. But as the months passed, it became harder and harder to pick up the phone and call her friend. 

Rachel had been right, after all, Tim loved her. How was she supposed to admit to her friend, to herself, that she fell in love with her friend's boyfriend? Especially after all of the hurt she experienced in college. 

Part of her, a selfish part that she wouldn’t want anyone to see, wanted to tell her friend about the guy she was in love with. 

Against her better judgment, Lucy picked up the phone and called her. 

“Hey Rachel,” Lucy said, her voice sounding artificially sweet to her own ears. 

“Hey,” Rachel sounded surprised, but not angry, “It’s been a long time since I heard from you-”

“Sorry,” Lucy let out a breath, trying to find the words, “I’ve been busy.”

There was an awkward silence, that lingered, maybe 10 seconds, but felt like hours.

“So,” She could hear Rachel smiling, “You and Tim, huh?”

“Yah,” Lucy closed her eyes, “Me and Tim””

That was as good a descriptor as any. 

“I’m happy for you,” Rachel said, “Though I think for both our sakes, I don’t need to hear all the details.”

“Fair,” Lucy said quickly, “Totally fair.”

“I’m seeing someone,” Rachel’s voice sounded hopeful, even over the phone, “Want to hear about him over drinks?”

“I would love that,” Lucy smiled “Just one thing?”

“Yah?”

“Can we go somewhere other than a cop bar?”

“For sure,” Rachel laughed, “It sounds like a plan.”

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It probably should have been harder, for Tim to leave this station. This station to which he gave his twenties, and thirties, that saw him through his marriage. It was the place where he became a cop, a T.O, where he met Lucy.

If he had to leave this place that made him, to keep Lucy in his life, well, it wasn’t a choice at all. 

“Thank you Sergeant Grey,” Tim said as he shook his hand, trying to wrap his head around this surreal meeting. This was his last time in this office in a professional capacity. He didn’t know what to make of that. 

“You have done good work for this department,” Sergeant Grey nodded, “And you will continue to do so in Westwood.” 

“Thank you sir.” Tim said, feeling uncomfortable, stiff and out of place. It didn’t help when Grey suddenly looked, well not nervous, but as close as he had seen him. 

“Officer Chen is a good officer,” Tim’s heart dropped, “She is going to do well here.”

“Sir?”

“We will miss you here,” Sergeant Grey’s speech slowed, so his meaning could not be in any way misunderstood, “We don’t wish you to go, but...”

Grey trailed off. 

“I understand, sir,” Tim nodded. Without him here, it would be better for Lucy, he tried to ignore the sting that this fact elicited. 

“Good,” Sergeant Grey looked relieved, “That’s good.”

Tim turned to leave, and he wasn’t sure what came over him, but he turned back. 

“It’s serious,” Tim said, “This isn’t just- I wasn’t taking advantage-”

“If I thought either of those things,” Grey said shooting a dark look at him, “This would be a very different conversation.”

“Good,” Tim turned back towards the door. 

“People won’t talk less,” Grey called after him, “Just because you move stations.”

“We know,” Tim felt the pit grow at the bottom of his stomach. 

“It won’t affect Officer Chen’s rise through the ranks, however.” 

Tim turned and looked Grey in the eye, and he knew, in that moment, that Lucy was going to be okay. 

If Lucy was okay, then he was going to be okay, too. 

“Good.” Tim nodded, at a loss of what to say. Of what he could say, that could possibly express everything he was feeling. 

“Thank you, Sergeant Bradford.” 

Simplicity, he supposed, was the best he could hope for. 

“Thank you,” Tim smiled, “Sergeant Grey.” 

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It was strange, the first few weeks with Tim in Westwood. It wasn’t like they were attached at work the last few months; they had been in different shops, different shifts half the time. Still, it had been comforting that he was around, during morning briefing, another set of eyes at a crime scene, or bumping into him outside interrogation. She missed that, and it took everything she had not to become that cop who was too distracted by her phone to be effective. 

She wasn’t that cop.

Right now she might have been that cop.

“Waiting for Bradford to text you?” Angela drawled, as she sidled up beside her. Lucy quickly exited out of her and Tim’s text messages, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. 

“What no,” Lucy spluttered, “I don’t know what-”

Angela shot her a look, and Lucy went silent. 

“Sorry.” Lucy whispered, sliding her phone back in her pocket.

“Don’t be,” Angela rolled her eyes, “Like me and Wes weren’t like that in the beginning.”

Lucy opened her mouth to say she was wrong, but closed it again. She wasn’t going to lie anymore, especially with how Angela was looking at her. 

“I am happy for the two of you,” Angela’s face was softer. 

“I didn’t think,” Lucy tried to find her words, “Thanks.”

“Didn’t think what?”

“Bishop,” Lucy stuttered, “Really didn’t think it was a good idea to date another cop.”

“Oh,” Angela looked serious, “I agree.”

“Thanks,” Lucy mumbled. 

“You're smart,” Angela said firmly, “You wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t real.”

“Yah,” Lucy smiled at that.

“But if you hurt Tim,” Angela said, her voice light but deadly serious, “Me and Bishop are coming after you with a shovel.”

“Fair enough,” Lucy shrugged, and Angela laughed. 

They walked back into the break room, and started talking about an unsolved robbery they both had connections to.

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Lucy was vibrating with nervous energy next to him. The music was too loud, and the drinks were a little too warm, and it would be easy enough to discount it, but he knew Lucy. 

Too well. 

Before he could ask her what’s wrong, she broke the silence. 

“I’m tired of waiting,” Lucy said, her voice crackling. 

“What?” 

“For the other shoe to drop,” Lucy gestured around, “For some cop to see me sneak out of your house, and tell on us like we're 16-years-old-”

“Lucy,” Tim’s heart started beating faster, and he felt like the floor was going to drop out from under him,“What are you trying to say?”

“Shit,” Lucy reached out and grabbed his hand and squeezed, “I’m not trying to break up with you or anything.”

Tim let out a sigh of relief. 

“Then,” Tim looked at her curiously, “What the hell are you trying to do?”

“People will talk,” Lucy said, “But you're at a different station, and I haven’t been your rookie for almost 6 months, and I want to build a life with you.”

Lucy was smiling in a way that made it impossible for him to not smile back. 

“Come dance with me,” Lucy said standing up, taking his hand up with her. 

“People will talk-”

“I know,” Lucy looked at him, and then at all the cops surrounding them, “Aren’t we worth the risk?”

Tim didn’t answer her, he just took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor. He felt so many eyes on her, on him, on them, but in that moment, he truly didn’t care. 

Not when she was looking at him like that. Not when he got to dance with, pull her close. Not when he didn't have to put up unnatural and artificial distance between them. This was the first step in tearing all of that down. He tried not to get ahead of himself, tried not to picture the whole life they could have, they could build. 

One thing was for sure, he promised himself, as he pulled her closer, he was going to take her dancing, a lot more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably have one more chapter of this fic after this! I can't believe I thought this was originally going to be a one-shot lol
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support. Please leave kudos and comments, they really do make my day :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking of doing a part 2, continuation, from Tim's perspective. LMK if you would like to see that!
> 
> I love comments and kudos :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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